


ugly sweaters can be something so personal

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Series: Breadstick's Holiday Special [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: -you don't have to wear it- BACK OFF IMA BE BURIED IN IT, Banter, Domestic Fluff, M/M, More fluff?, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, inspired by that one post, jon is sweet, martin is sappy, no beta we write at 3am like normal people, something like that, they're in love, yep it's fluff time, yknow the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: “Jon, what in the world is this?” Martin turned to him, holding up a sweater patterned in lurid blocks of red and green with horribly clashing patterns of holiday decorations wreaking havoc on the eyes.“It’s a sweater, Martin,” he said drily.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Breadstick's Holiday Special [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058717
Comments: 19
Kudos: 108





	ugly sweaters can be something so personal

**Author's Note:**

> with the encouragment of a lovely reader i have made this a series- holiday fluff! no plot, nothing tying in, just jonmartin being soft and sappy.  
> enjoy!  
> xxx

Plastic crinkling, Jon shifted the shopping bags to one arm in order to open the door to his and Martin’s flat. With the jangle of metal on metal, he nudged it open with his foot. “Martin, I’m home!” he called, taking off his shoes and walking down the hall to the kitchen.

From within the flat, he heard his boyfriend reply indistinctly. Jon smiled to himself, setting the groceries down on the counter. As he was putting a container of hot chocolate powder into the pantry, Martin walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

“Hello, love. How was the store?” he asked, mumbling into Jon’s neck.

He laughed at the tickle of Martin’s breath against his skin. “Nothing to report. The old woman who works in customer service told me to tell you hello, what was her name? I can never remember.”

“Angela,” he said promptly, still curled around Jon. “Did you manage to find everything we needed?”

He hummed in agreement, shuffling back over to the countertop with difficulty. It seemed Martin was loath to let him go, but he didn’t mind. On the contrary, he found it quite endearing. “Martin, you’re going to need to let me go so I can finish putting away the food.”

With a groan, he stepped back. “Fine, but only because I don’t want any of the frozens to melt.”

Jon grinned at him. “ _Thank_ you. Can you give me a hand with this?” He handed Martin a box of pasta that belonged on a shelf far out of his reach.

“Of course, you tiny man.”

"I am not!"

Together they put away the groceries, a motley assembly of peppermints (Jon’s favorite), random baking supplies, frozen vegetables, dry cereal, pasta, and-

“Jon, what in the _world_ is this?” Martin turned to him, holding up a sweater patterned in lurid blocks of red and green with horribly clashing patterns of holiday decorations wreaking havoc on the eyes.

“It’s a sweater, Martin,” he said drily.

“Well I know _that_ , but-“ He held it up again, examining it once more. It was not any better to look at the second time. In fact, it seemed to get _worse_ , somehow, like a steadily opening wound.

Jon shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I saw it and I thought it might be one you might like. You were complaining the other day you didn’t have warm enough clothes.”

“That,” he folded the sweater up again, “-is because _someone_ keeps stealing my clothes.”

Jon grinned innocently, bumping the other man with his hip. “Couldn’t be me. So I bought it for you. Consider it an early gift.”

Martin smiled, a soft, warm thing that lit his face. “Thank you.” He quickly pulled off the sweatshirt he was wearing and tugged on the awful sweater. “It’s so ugly!” he laughed delightedly.

“I can return it…”

“No, no,” Martin said vehemently, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m going to wear it every day. I love it, thank you, Jon.”

Standing in their tiny kitchen, laughing against the chill of the winter, joking about an awful sweater…Jon wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to hear from you!


End file.
